


Delicate

by lazarus_girl



Category: Skins (US)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 18:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/612793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarus_girl/pseuds/lazarus_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“There’s an order to their universe and it’s been the same way for years.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicate

**Author's Note:**

> AU (ish). Follows canon events up to 1x02, ‘Tea’ and includes references to 1x07, ‘Michelle.’

Michelle and Tony have broken up before, they make up to break up, Daisy says, and usually Tea would agree, but this feels different. It feels final. Tony’s gone from sitting with Chris and Abbud on the bleachers, eyeing the cheerleaders during practice and casually checking his phone for messages, to moping round, ashen except for the telltale red eyes from too many smoke-ups in the parking lot with Chris. In the rare moments they’ve crossed paths, she can’t help but think he looks like someone’s died. Maybe part of all of them has. Maybe he’s finally learnt his lesson. As for Michelle, she’s missed school for three days straight, and every time any of them called over to see her, they’ve never gotten past the front door, and there’s always another bouquet of flowers, box of chocolates or oversized teddy in the trash. 

When they walk the halls together, Cadie to her left, Daisy to her right, Abbud, Chris, Stan trailing behind, and Tony nowhere to be seen. She looks for Michelle out of sheer habit, and it’s painfully obvious; the lack of her. It makes it hard not to notice the sudden surge in strawberry blonde girls and guys in Ralph Lauren. No one comments; no one dares to. Saying what’s obvious out loud, goes against everything they know about the never-ending drama that is Tony and Michelle. There’s an order to their universe and it’s been the same way for years. No matter what he’s done, Tony always manages to win her back, but it’s been too long, even by their standards. Usually, everything’s fine between them before the gossip dies down, but not this time. 

Every so often, she’ll hear Tony’s name, Michelle’s, or the blonde skank he chose to hook-up with – Stephanie Johnson, appropriately named, given how many guys she’s had – dropped in the middle of a conversation, amongst the rest of the crap about pop quizzes, football scores or who got booted off Idol. Stephanie’s house party and Tony’s latest mistake – the last in a long, long line – are topic of the week. A couple of pictures here, a text or two there, and it was suddenly everywhere. Viral. 

It’s been draining watching it all unfold, and it’s not just bad for Tony and Michelle, it’s bad for all of them. She hates the whispering, the tension and the awkwardness. Most of all, she hates the weird limbo state they’re in because no one knows what to do, and they’re all waiting on Tony to make some big statement, but it never comes. It might’ve been a very public break up, but it sure as hell isn’t a clean one. 

Silently, they’ve all chosen their team, now it’s just a matter of who shows their colours first. 

This is exactly why she tells herself not to get too close to girls or too close to people in general. The more connections you make, the more tangled they become, and the harder it is to break free of them when it’s time.

***

She fights her way to the front of the bus when it turns the corner into Michelle’s street, switching her bag from one shoulder to the other as she stands near the steps, waiting for it to come to a stop. After cheer practice ran over, and then her mother, Nana, Flavio, and her hyperactive cousins to deal with when she got home, she’s much later than she wanted to be. The journey was meant to give her more time to think, so she could figure out what to say to Michelle that she hasn’t already on the countless other occasions Tony’s hurt her, but after twenty minutes of trying to get her head around it all, Tea’s got nothing beyond hello, and the fact she’s known Michelle since grade school seems somehow irrelevant. 

The only thing she does know is that Michelle can’t carry on like she has been. If anyone should be cutting themselves off from the world, it’s Stephanie, but no, ever the slut, she’s been walking round in her trashy miniskirts like an extra in a Ke$ha video all week, flipping her hair and batting her lashes at any guy who looks at her twice – the ones that hero worship Tony even more than they already did – rather than actually looking sorry or ashamed about the fact she’s completely trashed Michelle and Tony’s relationship. Tony she could care less about, it’s Michelle she’s loyal to; that she feels sorry for. She’s blameless in all this, even if she won’t see it that way, and if nothing else, Tea has to get that across to her. 

She might be Tony’s friend, but she’s not above telling him when he’s been an asshole, and when it comes to Michelle, he behaves like that a lot. She’s tired of it, mostly because she can’t stand to see Michelle cry and beat herself up, but also because she knows her friend deserves better. And yet, Tea understands why she lets it carry on. It’s just the way things are. It’s the way things have to be. In high school, it’s easier to settle; to hide parts of yourself away, to play down your intelligence or to put up with boys like Tony, because it’s better than being alone.

***

“Hey sweetie!” Jillian calls brightly from the front steps, cigarette dangling from her lips.

“Hey Jillian,” she waves slightly, drawing level with her.

“Good to see you.” she exhales a long plume of smoke off to the left before turning back to kiss her on the cheek. Tea gets a lungful of her heavy-scented designer perfume mixed with Marlboros at the same time.

They always meet like this, when she’s in transit, either leaving the house or coming back, but rarely ever in it. She’s in full make up, with hair that looks like it’s salon fresh, wearing a dangerously short dress and killer heels. It’s all topped off with the Reinhardt uniform of copious jewellery and a leather jacket. Sometimes, when they stand together, it’s hard to tell which one is mother or daughter. She’s only made the mistake of calling her Michelle’s mom once when they first became friends. Her reaction was enough reason not to repeat it.

“Date,” she adds, as an afterthought, a few seconds later. “What do you think?” 

She does a little twirl and winks at her. Tea just nods, because it reminds her of Michelle and it’s a little unnerving. That and the fact there are certain things you aren’t allowed to say about your best friend’s mother. Though knowing Jillian, she’d probably lap it up instead of being appalled. 

“Smoke?” she offers the pack up in the same way her own mother used to offer Michelle milk and cookies when they were young. Tea shakes her head and Jillian shrugs.

“How is she?” Tea chances, coming up the steps. She’s not really sure if she wants to know the answer, because Jillian isn’t the type to sugarcoat things.

She pulls hard on her cigarette and it makes Tea wish she’d taken one anyway. 

“Pretty bad,” she replies, and Tea feels her heart sink, even though she knew it was coming. “I told her she shouldn’t get so invested. I knew he’d end up breaking her heart.”

“She loves him,” Tea states, simply, putting her hands into her jacket pockets, suddenly feeling the early evening chill.

“Unfortunately,” she says, bitterly. “If I ever see him around here again, I’ll cut his balls off!” she shakes her head and takes another drag, looking off into the distance.

“There’s a long line of people who’d want to take him out first, including me,” Tea glances at Jillian briefly, feeling her anger flare for Stephanie and Tony both all over again.

“I’m glad she’s got you,” she sighs and puts her hand briefly on Tea’s shoulder, squeezing it a little. She’s not the hugging kind. “If anyone can get her out of that damn bed, you can,” she smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

Tea’s seen it before in Michelle, too many times. She nods, and smiles back anyway, hoping that she’s right. She’s picked Michelle up and put her back together before, and she can do it again. Now matter how many pieces there are to find. 

A silver Lexus pulls up and beeps its horn. Jillian brightens a little, waving at the guy inside. She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a compact mirror, fluffing her hair and checking her lipstick before she starts off down the steps. Halfway, she stops, and turns around, “You know,” she pauses to take a quick drag, “I’ve always said you had the right idea, kid. No man, no tears!”

“I don’t know about that. Girls can make you cry too.” 

“True,” she nods, and flicks away her cigarette. “Don’t burn the house down, OK?” she points, smiling.

“We’ll try not to.”

“Look after her,” it’s quieter, said as she turns away toward the street, but Tea still hears it. 

***

Apart from the soft melancholy music drifting down from upstairs, the house is silent, and her sneakers on the carpet sound ridiculously loud. The closer she gets to Michelle’s room, the slower she goes; genuinely afraid of what she’ll find when she gets there. The music gets clearer of course, and Tea sighs heavily, because she recognises it all too well: Chase Coy. It sets off a weird twinge of fondness at first, because of the times they’ve shared Michelle’s iPod on the bus to school. Even though it wasn’t really her bag, she listened anyway, tolerated it for Michelle, because it used to make her stupidly happy. He started out as a cute little crush – his poster is on the wall opposite her bed – but lately he’s becoming he’s her go-to soundtrack for heartbreak. She usually gets everything out of her system pretty quickly, so the fact he’s still playing now means it’s much worse than Tea thought. 

Tracing the curve of the handrail as she turns on the landing, she still expects to see Michelle’s door ajar, with Tony smirking as he buttons up his jeans or pulls on his shirt while Michelle stays under the covers, watching him with adoring eyes until he leans over the bed and kisses her. This time, there’s nothing like that at all. The curtains are drawn and Michelle’s alone, wrapped up underneath her duvet, just a shape in the bed all except for a flash of strawberry blonde hair peaking out of the top and spilling on to the pillow.

Tea takes a breath and taps lightly against the door twice.

“Mom, just leave me the fuck alone, please!” her voice sounds sore and ragged, strained from arguing. The rawness of it makes Tea flinch.

She plays it cool, ready with a smart little response, because it’s what Michelle expects, and the last thing she’d want is to be treated differently. 

“I think it’s biologically impossible for me to be your mother!”

“Tea?” Michelle asks groggily, and Tea hears the duvet rustling. 

For a second, Tea wonders if she’s going to get hit with one of Michelle’s famous pillow missiles, which rarely miss their intended target thanks to her killer aim. To her relief, a light snaps on instead, and she takes it as a good sign. 

“Hey,” she says softly, slipping through the door and closing it behind her.

“I’m not really in the mood for visitors,” Michelle states, her tired reply muffled by the duvet.

“Too bad,” Tea replies, dropping her bag down and shrugging off her leather jacket.

“Didn’t you guys get the message? I don’t need you to come and rescue me, OK?!”

“Yeah, loud and clear, but you know me, I’m not good at doing what I’m told.” 

Michelle groans, and pulls her covers higher. Tea hears her sniff back tears. “Please, Tay, just go. I need to be by myself.”

This is more like she expected. Steely and stubborn Michelle, who barricades herself in, who’s constantly on edge and always has her guard up to stop herself from hurting any more than she already does. It’s self-preservation; how they both deal with the world. How they _don’t_ deal with the world. They have an unspoken agreement between them for times like these. They know when enough is enough. Only she can pull Michelle back.

“I think you’ve been by yourself for way too long. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me!”

She picks a slow path across the room, stepping cautiously at first, until she gets frustrated and starts kicking things out the way. There are clothes, make-up and jewellery everywhere, draped over the back of Michelle’s chair and in piles on the floor. It’s exactly how they left things before the party, except for the extra empty bottles and cigarette butts in the mug-turned-astray on the windowsill. She’s probably been holed up in here since they came home together that night, and Tea held her while she sobbed like her world had ended. 

“But if I’m staying, this music isn’t. Jesus Chelle! No more!” she continues, exasperated, leaning over to reach Michelle’s iPod and turn it off. “Thank fuck!” she breathes when the room falls silent.

“Hey!” Michelle protests, her voice cracking. “I like it.”

“Michelle,” Tea starts, warningly, “soft-voiced, floppy-haired guitar boy is _not_ helping. In fact, he’s lulling you into a heartbreak coma.”

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“What’s right with it! Come on, up,” Tea pulls the duvet on one corner, hard, and Michelle pulls back, fighting to keep it, trying to cocoon herself tighter. 

“The fuck, Tay!” Michelle tries to yell at her, but fails, and it just comes out as a pained little screech. 

Tea does the yelling instead.

“Up!” she cries, not nearly as loud as she wants to, but it’s enough. “This shit, it stops, right now. It’s finished.”

She pulls again, gripping the material tightly and it forces Michelle to sit up. Even though Tea’s seen her like this before, it’s still something of a shock. All Tea can think is that she looks tired, so incredibly tired, like she hasn’t slept in weeks. She’s shut down, just like Tea feared. She’s stopped caring about herself completely. Her usually immaculate hair is tangled and untidy, and her eyes are puffy and red from days of crying – all the redder because she’s so pale. The mismatched boxer shorts and polo she’s wearing don’t quite fit, and it takes a moment for Tea to realise they’re not Michelle’s at all, but Tony’s. Even now, in the death of them, Michelle’s clinging on to this image she has of him – Tea knows it’s an image, the romantic Tony her friend keeps in her head – that’s quite different from the real one, who thinks nothing of cheating on her at a party while she’s in another room.

“OK. OK.” Michelle concedes, letting go of the covers. “You win,” she sighs, raking a hand through her hair. “Can you skip this part when you tell everyone about your little intervention?”

“We both win. Reinhardt,” Tea begins, as she clambers over the bed and reaches for her bag, “because this isn’t an intervention, OK? It’s a party.” She upends her bag and a large bottle of vodka rolls out.

“A pity party?” Michelle scoffs.

“No, just a regular party. Invite only,” she smiles.

"No blonde skanks?!” Michelle asks, reaching for the bottle before she rests against the headboard of her bed.

“Nope, and no selfish, cheating douche bags either,” she replies, scooting back and mirroring Michelle’s position. "This might taste like drain cleaner for all I know. It’s from Flavio’s stash. He gets it from that liquor store by Stan’s house.”

“Well,” Michelle looks thoughtfully at the bottle and unscrews the cap, “as long as it gets me drunk, I could care less.”

With that, she takes a swig from the bottle, wincing as she swallows.

“Please tell me we’re just gonna sit here and get drunk so I can forget I ever fell in love with Tony?” 

“We’re gonna sit here and get drunk so you can forget that you ever fell in love with Tony,” Tea echoes, raising the bottle in toast before drinking some when Michelle passes it back.

It’s as shitty as she thought it’d be, not really doing anything beyond burning, and she feels it go all the way down to her stomach. Right now, she thinks that’s a good idea. Thinks that’s what Michelle needs, that it might be oddly cleansing to be able to remember less.

“Fan fucking tastic!” Michelle nods enthusiastically. “The sooner that can happen, the better.” 

Tea pats her jeans pockets, looking for her cigarettes, holding up the pack with a triumphant smile when she finds them. “But, if the lady prefers, we also have other sources of refreshment at our disposal,” she grins, tapping the bottom of the pack. “The herbal kind,” she leans over and puts a joint between Michelle’s lips, sparking it with the pink lighter from Michelle’s nightstand.

***

Michelle rests against her as they pass the bottle and joint back and forth without even having to ask, and Tea just strokes her hair idly. Despite the circumstance, it feels good, nice even, just to be here for her; to be the person she lets in. Tea hopes it’s one that’ll never change, even if everyone and everything else does. 

“Tell me something that doesn’t involve me, Tony, or crying. Please?” Michelle asks, joint wagging in her mouth as she speaks.

“Well, Chris made a dick of himself in front of Tina again. The Polecats lost their last game, so cheering was pretty redundant, and uh, I went on a date with Joey Romero,” she offers up, like it’s nothing.

Michelle’s head snaps up at this and she pulls back, eyes wide. “What?” she exclaims and then, she starts to cough and passes the joint to Tea, swapping it for the vodka bottle and chugging some down to relieve it. “Oh, wait, was it one of your little Mafia play dates?” she asks, when she recovers.

“Fuck Michelle, for the millionth time,” Tea points, “my dad isn’t in the fucking Mafia!”

“Whatever! Just tell me what happened.”

“Well, what do you think?” Tea laughs as she takes a hit.

Michelle makes a face and it says it all. 

Joey’s not a bad guy, in fact, Michelle’s even confessed to thinking he’s cute, and he is, in a clean-cut, boyband kind of way, but given that she has no interest in the opposite sex whatsoever, it just makes things awkward. 

“I ended up eating my own body weight in cannoli just to avoid walking home with him.”

There’s a faint smile on Michelle’s lips, “Did it work?”

“No, he still made a big deal, and then shoved his tongue down my throat on the doorstep.”

Michelle shoves her playfully, “Thanks for that visual, Tay.”

“Well, my dad saw, so I suppose it was worth it. He’s happy,” she shrugs, taking another swig of vodka, joint precariously balanced between her fingers.

It’s ridiculous really, that she still goes along with it at this point, but it’s just something that has to be done; like brushing her teeth, curling her hair or cheerleading – her mother says it’s good for her college applications and it’s nice to belong to something. She can never imagine a point in time when her dad will accost her before she gets to the front gate, and ask her to go on a date with Christina Calabro in the same nonchalant tone. Going on that kind of date will never be business; will never be ordinary. 

“What about you though? It doesn’t make you happy.”

Tea sighs. “It doesn’t really matter.”

“It's kinda sad though, don't you think?” Michelle comments, looking pensive.

“What?”

“That you have to lie, you and Joey both.”

Michelle’s looking at her so earnestly when she says it, that Tea has to look away. 

“Everyone lies, Chelle,” she replies, avoiding her gaze but knowing she’s still watching.

“Yeah,” Michelle says quietly, in the exhale of a breath. “They do.”

***

It’s a long time since they’ve done this, Tea thinks. What with school, cheer, Tony, parties, and everything else; their friendship has started to slide. They’ve tried, of course, they always try, but things just get in the way and she can’t help but think how sad it is that it’s taken Tony’s fuck up to get them back to each other. She misses the days when Michelle practically lived at her house; when they slept top and tail in her bed and hung around in the kitchen while her mother cooked. She misses the days of daisy chains, and gelato on the steps of Mr Di Santo’s restaurant and jump rope. Days when things were less complicated. Days before Tony Snyder. 

She doesn’t pressure Michelle to talk; it’s not how they work. Instead, she just leaves the space, the opportunity, for when Michelle’s ready. 

They’re lying together now, propped against Michelle’s pillows, having descended into a comfortable silence, staring up at the ceiling. When she brings the bottle to her lips, it feels much lighter than before. She’s not sure how long they’ve been drinking and she doesn’t much care either, because they’re not drunk yet, not really. They’re buzzed? Maybe. Relaxed? Yes. Kind of; fluid perhaps, and then she thinks that might be the weed talking instead. Whatever it is, it’s a relief compared to how tightly wound she’s been feeling, entirely separate from the usual hangover pain she gets from cheer practice. 

“Sorry for yelling before,” Michelle says, out of nowhere as she blows a plume of smoke upwards.

“It’s OK,” she shakes her head. “I think you’re allowed, special dispensation,” she smiles. 

Michelle looks at her with sad eyes.

“And, sorry I didn’t answer any of your calls. I just didn’t feel like… you know?” she shakes her head.

Tea turns on to her side, propping her head against her hand. “Drama, pity, I told you so’s?”

“Something like that,” Michelle replies, glancing away.

“It’s cool. It’s a shitty situation,” she reaches, briefly touching Michelle’s arm. She gets small smile in return.

“You know what makes it worse?” Michelle begins, “It wasn’t even a one time thing, Tony, and _her_.” she spits out the words with disgust, crushing the remnant of the joint between her thumb and forefinger. “He’s been fucking her all summer behind my back.”

“Jesus …” she passes Michelle the last of the vodka and chugs it down in one and she slams it down on the carpet, while she absorbs the news. “Florida,” she comments after a moment with a sigh. Michelle just nods, eyes brimming with tears. “Douche. He never knows when to stop.”

It doesn’t cover it really, but then, no amount of words would. Sometimes, she wishes he could see this, just so he understands how he ruins people. She can’t help but feel guilt, because she behaves exactly the same way. She’s always looking for something more, craving more. It never feels enough, having anyone she wants is too easy. There is one difference between her and Tony though; she never professes to love any of the girls she sleeps with. 

She remembers his text about a girl he’d seen in the hotel lobby; bottle blonde. Just her type. She never made the connection at the time, because, well, why would she? Tony was always like that; eyes everywhere, but rarely on Michelle, unless it benefited him. Michelle was useful, he’d told her once, when they were sitting in the mall one weekend, drinking milkshakes and watching the never-ending stream of girls pass by.

Maybe Stephanie was useful too. Maybe Michelle had outlived her usefulness? 

The image of Tony in Stephanie’s pool house with this pants around his ankles flashes up in her mind. It’s all much clearer now. Stephanie looked far too comfortable. She knew exactly what she was doing. They’ve all played into her hands. Her boyfriend, Chad, King of the Jocks, when he fought with Tony on the lawn and practically broke his nose – he’s been wearing sunglasses all week to hide the bruises; Michelle when she pushed her fully-clothed into the swimming pool and broke up with Tony in the same breath; and herself, every time she’s risen to the bait during cheer practice. Today, her patience ran out. Though she had to wait to get her own back, it was worth it, bruised hand notwithstanding. She doesn’t care if she gets busted by coach Miller tomorrow either, someone had to wipe the smile off Stephanie’s smug, slutty little face, and she had the pleasure of doing it.

The text from Daisy that night is still on her phone. It only said one word: Michelle. As soon as she read it, surreptitiously while Jennifer Weiss – the hottest girl on the squad – kissed her, it didn’t matter that she had a bet with Chris and Abbud over who could seal the deal first, or that by leaving the room she’d forfeit the chance to fuck someone she’d been chasing for months; all that mattered was Michelle.

“I’m a joke to everyone, aren’t I?” Michelle takes a shallow, shuddering breath, and Tea can tell she’s fighting with herself not to cry.

She springs up, looking Michelle right in the eyes, “No, no you’re not Chelle. Don’t ever think that, OK?” 

“I do. They just think I’m Tony’s Snyder’s pretty little girlfriend who can’t think her own thoughts doesn’t know a fucking thing about all the shit he does!” she gulps in air, and continues. “I hate him,” she says, calm and resigned.

It sounds like the first time she’s admitted such things. Tea’s heard her say it before of course, in the heat of the moment, frustrated and screaming, but never like this. When a tear rolls down Michelle’s cheek, she swats it away. She’s not really crying any more. Tea thinks that might be because she hasn’t got anything left to cry with. 

“I know, I know,” she soothes, her arm sliding around Michelle’s shoulders, holding her tight.

“I love,” she pauses, swallows hard, corrects herself, “I loved him so much, Tay.”

“I know, I know,” Tea echoes, staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the stinging at the back of her eyes that signal tears yet to fall. She doesn’t do crying.

“He broke my heart,” Michelle starts to sob. “Sometimes, I wish you were called Tony Marvelli.”

Before Tea realises what’s happening, Michelle’s lips are on hers and she pulls back, reeling; confused. 

“Whoa, Michelle!” 

“What? Aren’t I pretty enough, aren’t I perfect enough?” it’s a pained desperate reply, said as she starts to scramble away. “I just … I don’t know … Fuck!”

“Shit … wait, it’s …” Tea shifts forward and catches hold of Michelle’s wrist. “It’s not you …” she tails off, unsure of herself for the first time.

When Michelle turns to her, tears streaming down her face, Tea can’t breathe. 

It’s not the first time Michelle’s kissed her. Sometimes, it’s a peck on the cheek. Sometimes, it’s on the lips. Sometimes, they’ve been dangerously close to more, when Michelle’s drunk, dancing with her in a darkened club, their bodies pressed together in a crowd, and she has to wish away the ache and the want that settles in her, because there have always been lines she can never cross. Michelle’s her best friend, so she’s off-limits. Michelle’s Tony’s girlfriend, so she’s off-limits. Michelle’s the person who she tells everything to, so giving her heart away too would be the worst possible thing she could do. And yet, as they inch closer to each other, and she traces the shape of Michelle’s mouth with her thumb, she feels those lines blurring, turning evermore fluid. 

The moment their lips touch, and she brings her hand to Michelle’s face, the lines start to fade. It feels right, it feels good; the kind of good she’s been yearning for. She tastes the salt of Michelle’s tears as she kisses them away, and swallows down her sighs when those kisses deepen. They fall backwards, entangled, with Michelle’s hands on the small of her back, grasping the material of her t-shirt for purchase, and Tea pushes her down into the mattress. When she hears her name fall from Michelle’s lips, breathy and unexpectedly desperate as she presses a slow, light trail of kisses down Michelle’s neck, she knows there’s no line left at all.


End file.
